Tuesday, July 26, 2011

To look for her in wandering compassion,
the fold of sleepless eyes,
I could walk into the room
and fall silent and invisible as breath.
I dare wakefulness to damn me.
Tempting as my dreams have become
I pray within them
to find myself on the other side
of the somnolent mirror.
To burn my pillow
and become a pillar of ghost,
to hurry that path that we all tread,
to wonder why no one else is as excited
by these fabulous failures of the heart.
Each night we are lucky to die,
to sail innocent seas,
each morning we are lucky
to still taste their salt on our lips.

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